Pessimistic Endstate
Government Contracts
If you're stumbling upon this post for the first time, you're entering the narrative midway through its unfolding saga. Alternatively, if you've eagerly awaited the next episode, consider revisiting Chapter Index to refresh your memory.
“Dr. Ranell?”
The voice startled him. Ranell had been gazing absently at the water tumbling merrily down the face of the exquisite waterfall accenting the Earl Burns Miller Japanese Garden on the campus of California State University. Ornate wooden bridges were set harmoniously around a gently rippling koi pond. He’d thought he was alone.
Behind him stood an Asian man in a gray business suit. “Oh, I didn’t see you come over,” Ranell felt compelled to explain himself. “Are you Hétóng Rén?”
“Thank you for agreeing to meet me here, Doctor.” There wasn’t a trace of an accent.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Ranell said politely, extending his hand. “I didn’t even know this garden was here, and it’s not far from my house. It’s beautiful.”
Hétóng made no move to return Ranell’s handshake. “A bit too xiǎo Rìběn for my tastes,” he said, using a derogatory slang term for Japanese.
Ranell missed the cultural reference, and after a few awkward moments, he lowered his hand. “Do I know you? Have we met?”
There was the slightest hint of an amused facial expression, as if Hétóng found something funny but was suppressing the emotion. “We have certainly met, but I strongly doubt you know me.”
Ranell’s eyes narrowed, “You said on the phone that it was urgent that we meet. I must confess, I’m a little concerned that you seem to know so much about GML and our operations.”
“I assure you that those whom I represent know a great deal more about your organization.” Still no outward expression.
Ranell was beginning to get angry. “You called this meeting. So, what do you want to discuss?”
Hétóng turned to his left, and then to his right, as if scanning the area for eavesdroppers. He gestured for them to walk along the path. “Your company has a global footprint with operations in Africa, North and South America, Europe, and the Asian Pacific.”
It was a statement, not a question. But for some reason, Ranell felt he ought to acknowledge the fact. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Your assets include all forms of cargo transport, including dry, insulated, and refrigerated containers. You have cargo ships, cargo trucks, rail cars, and aircraft.” Hétóng’s gait was slow and precise, his hands were clasped behind his back, and he stared straight ahead.
As they strolled past a beach created from plate-sized black stones, Ranell got the impression that Hétóng was aware of everything and everyone in his environment. “You could have gotten all that information from our website. So what? What’s this all about?”
Hétóng stopped and turned. “We could have gotten that information from your website. But we did not. Our source of information about you is, shall we say, much more robust?” Hétóng stared deeply into Ranell’s eyes to drive home his point. “For instance, we know that GML is dangerously over-extended.”
“Who are you?” Ranell demanded. “Just what are you trying to imply by that?”
“Dr. Ranell, as you know, the world is at war. Many are prepared to take, shall we say, drastic measures to position themselves most advantageously.”
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